Play!
by Anaca
Summary: Alfred Jones is living a luxurious life and has a semi-legal job of seducing people for a price. This time he is pitted against Arthur Kirkland. How well will he fare? And what will happen if he falls in love? US/UK AU, with bits of Spamano included.
1. Chapter 1

I - I'M ALIIIIIIIVE! /Rises out of the fog. Stone me all you want; I had a wonderful summer so far! So much fun, in fact, that I _completely forgot to update._ Gah, I'm stupid. But I have become a hopeless fan of Durarara! And now I'm thinking about writing a Shizaya fic.

I don't own Hetalia, 'cause if I did nothing would be straight, ever again. Oh, not _that_ kind of _straight_, I mean the kind of straight, as in – forget it.

Play! – Chapter One

Alfred sighed happily, collapsing on his expensive leather couch. What was there not to be happy about? He had a million-dollar house, maids to come and clean his many rooms, and…

No company to enjoy the splendor with. The American sighed again, albeit sadly. He needed to settle down with someone. Maybe one day he'll find an offer from the perfect damsel who is looking for help from his job. Well…an offer from a very loose term for _job_. Alfred's mouth quirked up at the thought. _I mean, what kind of lawful job would be seducing someone's worst enemy?_

Alfred Jones's job was part of a semi-not-really-legal organization who romanticized their client's person of choice, whether for evil intent or goodwill. Sometimes the player (the one who works) asked for money, and sometimes they asked for…_different_ services. The reward was always great, though. Alfred's last client had paid in money, and the pay was grand enough for him to afford his luxurious living for five months!

He looked at his spacious – and lonely – living room and got up. He was going to get another offer and try to find a companion other than his job partner Antonio.

He stepped outside and squinted at the harsh sunlight, then walked to his mailbox. Opening it, he pulled out a yellowing manila envelope that he had noticed days before but neglected to bring in. The organization wouldn't care anyways. The players are the ones who chose when to work; not them.

Alfred stepped back inside, careful not to step on his pet rabbit as he slit open the envelope and walked back to the living room, crashing on his couch once again. He scanned the list of clients with matching mug shots, looking for a charming girl's face to pop out and almost force him take their offer.

He noticed that all the photos were a bit fuzzy and cursed. It rained last night and he forgot to bring in the mail! Alfred kept searching anyways.

His eyes froze on a gorgeous face – blond, smiling gracefully, and with almost devilish blue eyes. Alfred swallowed and checked out the client's request.

_Francis Bonnefoy, age 21. Asking for someone to seduce Arthur Kirkland, age 21. Reason: Revenge._

Wasn't Francis a boy's name? Alfred quizzically looked at the photo. The shot was a bit more blurry then all the others, but the American was sure that Francis was a woman, waiting for some hero to save her from the clutches of an evil villain. Alfred was whisked away to his hero fantasies, where he saved a wailing Francis from the wicked Arthur, who was an abusive boyfriend. Maybe that was the reason why she wanted revenge!

Alfred grinned. What a good idea! He was going to take this offer for sure! Throwing the papers on the floor and forgetting to read the request form, Alfred shot up and picked up his phone, dialing and waiting for a voice to answer.

"Hello. Who may this be?" A quiet voice asked. Alfred said, "Hey! It's Alfred, player 011, and I wanted to take on an offer…"

* * *

Francis walked into a small office building and breathed in the crisp air. Today was going wonderfully well. He grinned. Not a week after submitting his request, someone by the name of Alfred had taken up his offer! What luck! Francis looked around and strode up to a small Asian man, asking, "Is this the –"

Quick as a sparrow, a hand was clapped over the Frenchman's mouth. The Asian hissed, "Not here! Aiyah, don't you know a thing about privacy!" With surprising strength he pushed Francis into a random room and locked it. Francis noticed that the door had more than a few locks on it and wondered why the organization – if that was what it was – was so secretive.

After locking the door completely (Francis wondered how he would get out alone if things went wrong), the Asian turned around and bowed, saying, "Welcome to our Organization, aru – Francis Bonnefoy, I take it to be? I am Yao, player 008 – and just saying, some of the workers keep their real name when working, and some do not, so don't even think about asking to arrest us, aru. We usually never fail to please, anyways." Yao held out his hand and Francis lightly shook it, a bit startled by the whole introduction.

"Yes, I am Francis," he cleared his throat. "I am a client for Alfred Jones…is he here today?"

"Well, I'll see, aru," Yao motioned for Francis to sit down and pulled out his phone, dialing quickly and tapping his foot impatiently when Alfred did not pick up. "Aiyaaah, answer the phone!"

Francis sat at a circular table, examining the room. Though it hasn't been the first time he has negotiated with shady people, it is the first time he has interacted with this company and he did not want to anger them, in case he wanted their services at another time.

The small room was very nondescript, with a round table in the center and conservative but elegant plants in the corners, giving the room a nice and calm feeling. There were no windows, once again reminding the Frenchman of his reason for being here. Francis smirked. _Finally_, he was going to get his revenge against Arthur…!

"Hey, Alfred! Where are you, aru? I have Francis waiting for you!" Francis's thoughts were interrupted by Yao's sharp voice. He looked at the small man, who looked extremely irritated. He could faintly hear a voice talking through the speaker.

"So why aren't you here?" Yao listened as the voice spoke again. "What! I told you to stop eating candy before you went to sleep, aru! You never pay attention when you do! Well then it's your fault!" Yao waved his hand dismissively. "Since I'm the best veteran player here, I can criticize you all I want. Well, just come inside and start talking to Francis! I need to meet another newbie client, so I'm just going to leave him here, aru. He's in room five, okay? Yeah, bye!" He shut his phone and growled, "Aiyah, this boy is so stupid!"

Turning to Francis, Yao shook his hand once again, saying, "Alfred will be coming here shortly. If you wish to have my services instead of him, all you have to do is request for Wang Yao…however; I am usually swamped with requests so I may not be able to help you. I hope you like the ending you get!" He pressed a code into a keypad on the door and stood back as the locks unlocked themselves and the door swung open. "Goodbye, aru~" Yao walked outside and the door closed swiftly behind him, hissing as the locks relocked.

Francis looked around again and noticed a navy blue folder sitting on the opposite side of his seat, probably for Alfred to look through. He leaned over to grab it and looked through, then frowned in disappointment as he only found his request form. Deciding it was, at least, something to do, he read through it.

_Bonjuor, I am Francis Bonnefoy and I require the services of someone who can seduce and humiliate my dearest enemy Arthur Kirkland, who is an annoying pain in the ass, to put it mildly. We have been rivals for what seems to be forever, and when I heard about this organization from my good friend Antonio, I decided to request your services. I have money, prostitutes, and more than a bit of skill in the bed myself, if I say so. The best way to go is to seduce him, hopefully by another man, for I am sure that Arthur is straight. If you ever get that far I will tell you what to do next, no worries~ Hope you can do this well._

Francis had just finished reading when he heard the locks whirring and he hurriedly set the folder back to its original spot and sitting back.

The door swung open and a man rushed in, glasses askew and hair tousled all over his face. He was out of breath, and he fixed his appearance as he panted out, "Sorry – I was – across the whole entire building – had to run –" He sat down across from Francis, letting out a deep breath, and smiled, holding out his hand. "Hello, I am Alfred Jones, and you're…Francis…Bonnefoy?" As Alfred caught full view of Francis, all the color that was once there drained from his cheeks and his mouth flopped open.

"Oui! I am Francis Bonnefoy," Francis said, taking the hand and kissing it, using his huskiest, manliest voice ever. "I hope that we will be working well together for the time that I'll be here!"

As his lips brushed Alfred's knuckles, the Frenchman noticed that the other was trembling. He let go of the hand and looked up. "What is it?"

"You – You have stubble. And no big boobs. An – And a manly voice," Alfred stammered.

"Yes, I do. Is there something wrong with that?" Francis looked down and added as an afterthought, "But I do have something else that is very large, for your information. What, did you think I was a woman or something?" Francis laughed at his bad excuse for a joke, but it faded quickly as Alfred didn't answer.

"You did? Mon Dieu," he whispered.

In a remarkable act of slow reaction, Alfred let loose a scream that could be heard throughout the whole entire office building, startling many and jostling the cup of tea Yao held in his hands as he tried to take a sip, spilling it a bit.

"You have to excuse me, aru," he said as he wiped the tea from his mouth. "We have a very thick-headed player here who thought his client was a woman. On a better note, this tea is good, isn't it?" He smiled tenderly at his client, a quiet and even-tempered Japanese man.

"Yes, this is very delicious," the man said, swirling the drink in his mug gracefully.

"Good, good. Now, Kiku…you want help from someone called Ivan Braginski? Let's help you then."

* * *

A/N - I have a friend whose mother follows Hidekaz-sama's stereotype of China – she has different ways of saying 'Aiyaaah' for different expressions. It's really creepy (and funny /shot).


	2. Intermission 1

Intermissions! Wha-!

Yes, intermissions. They're kinda like the meanwhile-s of the story. Since this is the first Intermission, I'll give you some help. Intermissions take place the same time as the previous chapter. So this time, this takes place while Francis and Alfred are talking to each other and making a deal.

Intermission One: Antonio

Antonio looked up as he heard impatient knocking come from his office door.

"Oh! The next client! Feli, could you get the door please~?"

"Okay!" A cheery Italian, Feliciano Vargas jumped up from his desk, which was littered with little scraps of paper, and almost hurled the door open.

Outside an enormous man scowled. "It took me forever to get me here! What is wrong with you people? I ask them where your office was _five_ times, and they kept pointing me the opposite direction! These people are ridiculous – " he broke off as Feliciano ran from the burly man's terrible gaze, hiding behind the door and shaking.

"Aha~ Don't worry about it! I'll go tell them to stop that. Sit down, Dominique Sargav," Antonio assured, laughing. Actually, the Spaniard had asked the people in the building to misdirect any man who had a dark beard and was muscled away from his office, to refrain from having to settle a debt with one of his past targets. It was just his luck to have his next client look a lot like that man!

The Spaniard raised an eyebrow when he saw his client look behind the door and inspect Feliciano, who quivered like a bug in a storm under Dominique's sharp stare. A bug in an intense, hurricane-level storm, that is.

"Um…that's Feliciano, my assistant. He helps me with stuff, odd jobs and such…" Antonio trailed off.

"Hi?" The quaking Italian stuttered out and waved, squeaking when Dominique looked closer and growled, "Feliciano…?"

"Dominique, with all due respect, could you sit down and let us get started? I hear a nasty storm is coming, and I'd rather not get caught in it." Antonio ruffled a bright red folder in front of him. "It's not like you know little Feli or something! He's too cute to get caught up in your kind of business, right~?" he winked cheerfully.

Dominique turned around and Feliciano's face drained of color. "I need to go pick up my, uh, sister, from school, so see you soon!" The Italian babbled, turning quick to grab his jacket then run out the door.

"Hm. Never seen Feliciano so flustered before. I guess you truly _are_ as frightening and scary as the rumors say," Antonio opened the folder and read as his client sat down.

Dominique took in his surroundings. Antonio's office was a cozy little room in the far corners of the building, and was filled with photos of the Spaniard posing – always – with other people in different locations. He had a passing moment of indecision at the many people in the photos. Was this the right place to go?

The burly man quickly shook his head of those kind of thoughts. _I might as well try._

Nodding to himself a few minutes later, the Spaniard asked, "So, who is this Lovino, personality-wise? It says here that he's your son, so even though it doesn't include a last name I guess his last name is Sargav."

"Well, he's grumpy all the time, much like me, but unlike, me, he doesn't have a lover to go to at the end of the day, so usually he's always angry."

"Oh, how horrible! Anything else?"

"On the inside he's really a sweetheart. His twin always gives him a hug before he leaves for work, and they live together. So far as I know, that twin isn't in the hospital yet, and there have been no house damage bills, so all is fine. And he gave my wife a lovely bouquet for Mother's Day."

"He has a twin? Double the fun~" Antonio said with a chuckle.

Dominique immediately picked up the innuendo and replied icily, "Now, now – just_ who_ is the mafia leader here? You or me?" As he said this, he stared into Antonio's eyes, the calm hazel eyes betraying his feelings by darkening into a deep, dangerous brown. (1)

Antonio gulped. "You, sir."

"Good. He needs a boyfriend to cheer him up, and people say you're the most joyful person here, so I hope I can work with you," the client continued casually.

"Hey, it's not like I'm ranked the eighth best player for nothing! Well then…l-let's get started on how I should meet your Lovino…"

"Just saying, this isn't my first attempt at trying to get him to get a boyfriend."

"Why don't you try and get him a girlfriend? We have a few women players here…and how many times did you try? Just to be curious, of course." The Spaniard quickly added.

"He's so cranky all the time it's obvious that he's gay! He's only getting frustrated over the fact that he feels nothing towards girls, of course! Anyways, this is my 27th time."

"Twenty-seventh time! What!"

* * *

"Lovi! Lovi~!"

Lovino Vargas looked up from his paper he was typing. "What?" he growled, voice sounding very much like his father's. "I have a college paper due soon, so you need to shove off! Stop calling me Lovi too!"

Feliciano slammed their house's door shut and wailed, "It's bad! It's horrible!"

"Horrible like the time our cat was stuck in the tree? Geez, you're so much like Mom it's not even funny sometimes," Lovino shook his head.

"No! It's worse! Really, really bad!"

"What is it, then! We both have to do this paper, so you know how many points it's worth! Did you even start it yet?"

"No – but that's beside the point, Lovi! Dad's here! And he's going to hire another person!"

At his computer, Lovino went still. Then after a moment, he said with a scary calmness, "I thought he would say that he would stop."

"Apparently not," Feliciano sighed, flopping down on the couch.

"This is like, the 27th time! Doesn't he know when to stop?"

"No…" Feliciano checked his watch and added, "I have to go back to work, Lovi. It wouldn't be good if I left for too long." The Italian stood up to leave.

"Okay then, bye," Lovino looked like he was going to punch someone soon, so Feliciano quickly ran to the door.

* * *

He left his house and walked to their car. Driving back to the organization building at speeds that would make most people sick, Feliciano flinched when he heard his phone ring, playing a carnival tune that the Italian set so that when his father called it would ring that tune.

Shakily picking it up, he flipped it open and said, "H-Hello?"

"I didn't know you did that kind of work, Feli."

"Eheh, I didn't know you went to those kind of places, Dad," the Italian tried not to break down into hysterics in front of his father.

"The reason I changed my last name was to assure you would lead a peaceful life, Feliciano. Do you want my efforts to go to waste?"

Feliciano winced when his father said his full name. It sounded strange to his ears. "It isn't changed at all! 'Vargas' to 'Sargav'! You only switched around the letters!" he weakly protested, avoiding the question. "Good thing Antonio didn't notice the relationship between the names," he added ominously.

"You're ignoring the question~" his father playfully reminded.

"Are you angry at me?"

"Kinda. I do want to know why you decided to work there, though."

"Well…it was only part time, and the pay was good, but the real reason why was because, well – it's been kind of boring nowadays, okay? It wasn't fun without your friends to get drunk and get into fights and stuff, and all those secret meetings at midnight. Life in college has been boring." Even though he knew his father couldn't see it, Feliciano pouted. "So I joined that organization to see some interesting people. Like Antonio! He's funny and smart, though I don't think he can seduce _Lovi_. That's going to be impossible, I'm sure."

"We can always try," Dominique replied lightly. "One day we'll break through."

* * *

Lovino listened to the sound of the fan whirring and sighed. He didn't feel like doing his paper anymore, so he turned off the computer and started to revolve in his swivel chair.

"This is the last time my father is going to try and set me up with a man, I swear! The next time I see some gay bastard who wants to hit on me, I'm going to hit him so hard he'll fly across the street!" the Italian announced after fuming for a while, grinning victoriously.

"Let's see if my father can beat that!"

* * *

(1) – _Color-changing eyes_ – Is it really true that when your feelings are different the color of your eyes reflect your mood?

A/N – Antonio…watch out for your pretty little face…

These Intermissions might also include RoChu! Should I do that?


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Francis was laughing.

He really didn't mean to start – it started out as a small chuckle – but somehow it evolved into a chortle, then a quiet laugh, and suddenly he was laughing so hard his stomach hurt and tears fell from his eyes.

"Oh – Oh," he said, wiping his eyes. "That was hilarious! Most likely to be the funniest thing I've ever seen – other than meeting Gilbert – but _still_! Oh _Dieu_, mistaken for a _woman_! _Une femme_! This is going to be a riot with my friends, I tell you! I mean, I _am_ beautiful, but _really_ now!"

Alfred sourly watched the Frenchman's laughter fade to nothing with extraordinary patience. Once Francis was done, he picked up the blue folder on the table and said gloomily, "Yeah, yeah. I get it. It's funny. _Lovely_. Now let's get cracking."

He opened the folder, eye twitching at the first page which was Francis's personal information…well, more specifically; he stared at the picture, which was a much clearer picture of the Frenchman blowing a kiss to the camera. How could anyone miss that stubble? Wait, who let him make that kind of pose at the camera anyways?

As if the whole world wanted to add salt to his wound, Alfred heard sniggers coming from behind him and knew his superiors were watching. He read through the folder with an alarming speed, determined to tune out the laughter all around him.

When he was done, he looked up at Francis and asked, "So, would you like to tell me a bit about Arthur?"

"Well, to be honest, I don't know too much, being basically _mortal enemies_ with him and all, but I do know that while he seems angry all the time, he really isn't. Or maybe it's just that he's always irritated when I see him. Probably because he gets jealous when he sees that I have status, money, and women, and he only has sexual frustration…oui, maybe that's it," Francis nodded to himself, then collapsed into a fit of giggles, once again laughing at Alfred.

If the Frenchman had any ulterior goal to remain stoic and professional during his first meeting, he was disarmed by Alfred's hilarious blunder. Now, he was chatting away, leaning forward with elbows on the table.

On Alfred's side, he kept his composure well and revealed little about him so far, which was a minor miracle for him. Inside, he wanted to throttle the man across the table who was still giggling, but on the outside he was as calm as one could get when a Frenchman and your superiors where laughing at you openly.

"Also, Arthur claims that he sees faeries," Francis suddenly added.

Alfred snorted. "Faeries? Like from storybooks and children's tales?"

"Yes, that's exactly my reaction!" Francis laughed. "I really don't know if he's mentally ill or if he's on drugs!"

"Hmm...really though? Faeries?" Alfred couldn't help but let a note of suspicion creep into his voice. Francis wouldn't be the first person to try and throw Alfred off his tracks.

"He claims to. So don't really be surprised if he talks to thin air or something. Other than that, Arthur is completely sane and _boring_," the Frenchman rolled his eyes and let them land on and roam Alfred's body.

Now wanting to be gone as soon as possible to get out of the lecherous stare of Francis, Alfred asked, "Is there any way for me to meet with Arthur soon?"

His plan was to find Arthur, chat with him for an hour or so, then leave the part where he asked him out to another day. Nowadays, Alfred's targets have been weak women or strange men, and have been enchanted by his natural charm and smile too quickly. It took only a few dates and a small 'crisis' to make them fall in love, but sometimes Alfred drew it out longer if he saw fit.

Things wouldn't be fun if they lasted for only a few weeks, right? Other than this job, Alfred really had nothing better or fun to do. However, he was a bit put down by the fact that Francis wasn't a gorgeous lady, so maybe he'll just get through the job and lay low for a few months before accepting another job…this time remembering to bring in the mail before it rains.

"Well, I know that our Brit likes tea, so I'd try either the Lucky Tea House or the Kimono café."

"Okay," the American wrote the store names down and then said, "Now for payment…hmm…well, I have enough money already, so…"

"Would you like _my_ services? I mainly do bl –"

"NO!" Alfred swiftly cut off Francis.

"Well then!" the Frenchman huffed. "I _do_ personally know a big shot at EBGam*s who owes me a favor. Did you hear about that new zombie game that's going to come out in a year?"

"_Res*dent Evil_! Hell yeah!"

"I could get my friend to give it to me, and then I'll give it to you," Francis suggested. "I might also be able to get you that Pok*mon Black/White before it comes out."

"That would be awesome!" Alfred grinned, suddenly liking the Frenchman a lot more. "In fact, that would be _great_! Let's get started then!"

"Good, that's good." Francis smirked.

* * *

As the first drops of what predicted to be heavy rain fell, Alfred drove to the Lucky Tea House first and took a seat near the wall, blue folder in hand. He flipped through to Arthur's profile and smiled a bit at the scowl he gave the camera. That smile quickly became a laugh when he noticed those eyebrows on his head. It looked like two fuzzy black caterpillars lay forever on his head or something! The American was sure that Francis just looked through the folder earlier and decided to draw those brows in with a Sharp*e.

Looking cautiously around, he spotted a head of unruly blonde hair facing opposite from him. Since there weren't any other people with that hairstyle and color as the one in the picture, Alfred guessed that was Arthur.

Curiosity getting the better of him (those brows _cannot_ be real!), Alfred stowed his folder away and walked past Arthur to the counter, where he ordered a coffee.

While he stood there waiting for his drink, Alfred casually let his gaze wander around the many people in room:

A woman with her kid…an old man reading his newspaper…a college girl with a laptop with earphones on…a shy looking man…finally Alfred let his gaze rest on the person's face…

And almost cursed aloud because the person definitely wasn't Arthur – he was Asian, for crying out loud!"

"Your coffee, sir," the disappointed American turned back to the cashier and was pulling a few bills out of his wallet when the door banged open and made the little bell connected to the handle almost fly off. Outside, the drizzle had evolved into a full-blown storm, trees waving to and fro erratically from the wind and rain.

"Edna! The usual, please!" A man in a hat shouted as he wiped his wet feet on the welcome mat. He was dripping wet because he didn't bring an umbrella.

_What kind of idiot doesn't bring an umbrella?_ (1) Alfred thought as the cashier, Edna, chirped, "Sure thing, Arthur!"

_Arthur! _

The man took off his cap and muttered, "Damn rain; it soaked my cap." His sandy blonde hair dripped with water and his green eyes flashed with anger. He strode up to the counter and wiped the dripping wet hair from his eyes, uncovering the giant eyebrows in Alfred's picture. "Today hasn't been a wonderful day, to be honest," he sighed. "I'm sorry for yelling in such a civil place."

_This is Arthur, all right. He even matches Francis' descriptions. Damn, those 'brows are enormous._ Arthur caught the American staring and heatedly asked, "What are you staring at?"

"Ah – I was just staring at, um…um…" Alfred, caught off guard, flailed for words.

"Say it…" The Brit crossed his arms and glared.

"Your…eyebrows…" Alfred finished weakly.

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Of _course_. You people just can't seem to get enough of them, do you?"

"N-No! It's just that…uh…they were really…"

"Big? Distracting?" The Brit raised an eyebrow as he supplied a few words. Before Alfred could correct him, Arthur muttered, "Bloody halfwit." Louder, he said, "I'll be waiting at a table, Edna!"

"Alright!"

After shooting Alfred a venomous glare, Arthur sat down at his seat and proceeded to glare at every person in the room and mutter under his breath.

_Ooh, touchy. I wonder, is he talking to the faeries like Francis said he would?_

Alfred paid for his coffee and decided that now would be a good time as ever to try and get to know Arthur. As Edna set the tea on Arthur's table and said, "Two dollars, please," Alfred stepped forward and said, "I'll pay for it." He sat down across from Arthur and pulled out his wallet, setting his coffee down next to the cup of tea.

"Sure, honey." The American pulled out the money and then stored his wallet away to his bag. He looked up to see Arthur staring at him.

"What are you staring at?" He asked, playfully mimicking Arthur's angry tone from earlier.

"What do you benefit from paying for me?"

"I wanted to apologize for staring at your…eyebrows." _More like your abominable black monsters that live on your face._ Alfred shivered. "Don't you trim them?"

"Yes I do," the Brit said defensively. "They just grow very quickly."

"Hmm." Alfred took a sip of his coffee.

"Mmm." Arthur took a sip of his tea.

"…"

"Don't you have something more productive to do, other than sit here? You've apologized already and I barely know you!"

"Well, it looks like all the other seats have been taken. Just look!"

True to his word, the Lucky Tea House was packed with people avoiding the dark storm outside. There was barely enough room to stand.

"Damn it," Alfred cursed. "It was only lightly raining when I got here only five minutes ago! I'm not going to be able to get home in this storm." Just then, a crack of thunder roared outside and the American jumped a bit in his seat. "Whoa!"

Arthur, on the other hand, muttered angrily, "Oh, _lovely_. Now how will I get home? I didn't even bring a car."

"I could drive you to your house," Alfred suggested, jumping on the opportunity hopefully.

The Brit gave him a hard stare. "No. I'd rather wait for this storm to thin out than have an _ignorant_, weird, obnoxious, and _complete stranger_ drive me to my house."

"Well then, I'll wait for you too!"

"Once again, _why_?"

"Because I'm interested in you! You're kinda cute, too, if you trimmed the brows," Alfred closed one eye and made a show of pretending to cut Arthur's eyebrows.

"What a lie! I'm not cute at all! You aren't interested in me either!" Arthur huffed and quickly took a sip of his tea. The American didn't miss the small smile the teacup almost covered.

"You're smiling!" he said gleefully.

"No I'm not!" The Brot set his cup down. The smile was replaced with a frown and Alfred kind of regretted saying that. He pressed on.

"You did!"

"No I didn't!"

"Did!"

"Didn't!" By now they had attracted most of the store's attention.

"Did!"

"Did'n-"

"Boys, you're going to have to get out of you keep arguing like this," the employee Edna said gently, patting both of them on their backs. "Calm down or I'll be forced to kick you two out." She bustled away after handing a person their lemonade.

Arthur glared at Alfred and a smirk played around the corners of the American's mouth as he stared amusedly back.

"Are you doing this on purpose?" the Brit ground out.

"Now, why would you _ever_ think of that ridiculous idea?" Alfred let his laughter bubble over and he chuckled.

"You –" _Fuck the consequences! _Arthur took his now lukewarm tea and dumped it on the American's head.

The laughter stopped as Alfred took in the fact that he was drenched in his least favorite beverage as Arthur cockily snickered. Smiling, the American took his lukewarm coffee and slowly poured it on top of Arthur's slightly damp hair.

There was silence all around the room as the two took in their condition.

Interceding swiftly before anything bad could happen, the café's manager said, "Alright, you two, you're gonna havta get out of here. I'd hand you some napkins, but I don't think that's gonna help anything when you go out there. I bet the rain will wash the coffee and tea right outta ya! Now, let's go!" he laughed and pushed the two towards the store entrance, people parting to make room. The man pushed Alfred and Arthur out and shouted over the din the rain made,

"See you two around – but not in here! You two are banned from this café!" He slammed the glass door shut.

"Great. This is your fault, idiot!" Arthur yelled. "Now I'm banned from my favorite tea shop!"

"What! You're the one who dumped your nasty tea on me first!"

"You taunted me! Gah, how am I going to get home!" the Brit put his hands to his head in an image of distress. The manager opened the door and threw the two's jackets and hats to them before rudely slamming it shut.

"…I have a car,"

Arthur stared at Alfred, caught in between anger and necessity. Spite the strange guy by refusing his request or be home quickly, warm and healthy? He shivered. The rain had already soaked both of them to their skin.

Arthur sighed. "Where's your car?" Quietly, he added, "This is the worst day ever."

"It's over here!" the American skipped away, shrugging on his jacket. The Brit donned his own coat and followed behind, muttering angrily.

"What's your name, anyways?"

"It's Alfred! Alfred Jones! What's yours?" Alfred asked brightly (as if he wasn't just kicked out from a shop and into this horrible thunderstorm).

"…It's Arthur Kirkland."

"Hm. Nice to meet you, Arthur!" Alfred grinned. This 'game' was gonna be exciting!

* * *

(1) – _What kind of person doesn't bring an umbrella?_ – Well, a British gentleman, of course! 8D

A/N – _Great_ way to start off with Arthur, really. Nice job, Alfred. Smooth.

From my view, the only reason why Alfred joined the Organization was because he was bored. (In this fic, so was Feliciano, which led to him becoming Antonio's assistant. Anyone watch Durarara! ? Mikado-kun had that problem too.) Being the 11th best player, he quickly perfected his skills in making people fall in love, and was now _BORED_ beyond imagination. Sure, it was fun, but with Alfred's charming charisma people fell to him like grass to a blade. Arthur, being his grumpy self, attracted Alfred pleasantly by not clinging to the American like a fanboy. Which is why even after being covered in lukewarm tea, Alfred is extremely happy. Call it the 'thrill of the hunt', if you will. Yup.


	4. Awww, really?

Title: AWW, REALLY!

Dear dearest lovely readers who no doubt are doing to kill me dead for this message...

Okay, so...I haven't been able to go on ffnet for a while, ever since my last chapter was uploaded (SOB). So, imagine you sent me an amazingly long PM/review filled with love and care. So then, I'd receive it in my inbox and I'd able to read it. But I can't reply on ffnet. Because ffnet is blocked on both school computers and my house (SINCE THE END OF JULY, GEEZE), and there is absolutely NO WAY I'm using my friend's laptop to type up a chapter, or use it at all to write a reply. It shows ignorance of our friendship, and that would suck. Right now, a friend of mine is copying and pasting this message (using my account, SOB SOB SOB) into the little replying thingy. Then she shall send it, (hopefully not altering anything) and you shall recieve this message via her computer that isn't blocked on ffnet. But I don't wanna impose, so I won't have her copy+paste more than what she has to (SORRY~!). That's just too much. So sadly, no replies anymore, and no more chapters either, until I get my father to do something and unblock it. And I thought that the password would be really easy, since it's my father who blocked the site. HOWEVER, it's one of those word-password ones, so I have NO idea what the password for unblocking sites are, and he somhow did it for ALL sites (Mozilla, Chrome, Internet Exp, Safari, etc)  
I'm really sorry, darlins'~ But my dad is a horrible meanie (who thankfully didn't find out about my yaoi-lovingness and just blocked it out thinking I might stumble onto the 'bad stuff,' WHICH I ALREADY DID).

THEREFORE, FINAL LINE: NO REPLIES/CHAPTERS UNTIL I FIRGURE OUT WHAT TO DO. If you DO decide to send a random review to this, I can read it, but not reply. So...if it is nice, thank you. If it's filled with hate spamattacks, it's completely understandable that you would do that, and I do not blame you. But it wounds my faintly beating heart! /clutches chest dramatically/

On a lighter note, I'm in high school! The freshmen don't shut up! It's so strange~ -  
Uh, hello there. I'm Shannon. You know, the one who was kind enough to post this for Anaca? Yeah, you probably don't know me. (I'm nightwolfed on here, by the way.)  
Anyway, stop wasting your life reading Hetalia. Go read Harry Potter slash instead. Preferably of the Harry/Draco variety. That is, once you stop crying on your keyboard about Anaca not updating. Yes, I know you are, don't deny it. But do stop. It's unsightly and you're getting tears all over the keys. Disgusting. 


End file.
